mein Geist
by Savage Daz
Summary: Spot has never believed in anything of the paranormal or supernatural. Then he meets a ghost. SPRACE AU
1. Chapter 1

Spot Conlon has never believed in anything of the supernatural or paranormal. Then he meets a ghost. AU and rather OOC in this chapter.

Spot/Race

Time period: Somewhere between now and 1899. Much, much closer to now. It hasn't quite revealed itself to me yet. I don't really see it being 2007, but I think maybe mid 1990's.

It may be just a little confusing in the first few chapters, but I had an idea, and I'm going with it Feel free to offer constructive criticism, praise, or anything except flames. Flamers are just looking for attention...unless the writer really deserves it. And I don't think I do [

Spot will be referred to as Sean most of the time

Much slashy-ness. Don't like, don't read.

But if you do like, please read and review and tell me what you think.

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Sean Conlon never believed in ghosts, or anything of the paranormal realm. He was a realist, quick to point out fallacies in things such as religion, myth, and superstition. All he wanted were cold, hard facts.

He and his father had just moved into a big house in northern New York. His mother lived in Brooklyn, selling herself at the local taverns and bars. He had lived with his mother for fourteen years, before his rich-as-hell dad came back from Europe and, after visiting him, demanded custody over him. It was granted, and so for the past three years he had been traveling around with his father, never even allowed to see his mom. As far as he was concerned, Sean couldn't have cared less. She never did anything for him.

The new house was palatial. It seemed to stretch on forever, with long, winding hallways and steep staircases. There were even four towers. It was a castle. Sean had a wing of it all to himself. After making sure that the movers put his bed and dresser where he wanted it, he set off to explore the house.

The hallways seemed to go on infinitely, with dozens and dozens of rooms. He found the library, which had old books that seemed to have never been taken out, and smelled of mothballs. He counted twelve different sitting rooms, and at least eight bathrooms.

Finally, Sean reached a staircase which wound down into a large room, with another on the other side mirroring it. At the base were large double doors, ornately carved and beautiful. On the opposite side of the room from the doors were large windows. They displayed a beautiful wooded area outside, with a small pond and a bench. The light of the sun made everything shimmer and tremble with golden light.

He paused in front of the large doors and frowned. There was no dust, no cobwebs. The windows looked like they had been washed only recently. He distinctly remembered his father telling him about how nobody had been inside many parts of the house for years. How could it be that everything looked as sparkling and fresh as the day it had been made?

He turned to study the double doors and cocked his head. He could hear music. A sweet violin and lively flute were singing in harmony, their voices dancing a jig in the air. It was very soft, but he knew that he wasn't imagining it. He had never heard that song before. The longer he listened, the louder it became. Then he heard soft, polite laughter that one would make at a formal party, and the tinkling of glasses. Voices swelled; it sounded as though dozens of people were on the other side of the doors. All the same, it sounded almost muted, like the old records he would hear in his father's old study, or an old black and white movie that he watched in his English class.

Sean turned the handle and pushed the door wide open. The room was completely dark and silent. He could tell by the way the door echoed as it hit the wall that it was a big, big room. The furniture along the walls that he could see were covered in white sheets.

After standing in the doorway for a few moments, peering into the darkness and feeling rather absurd, Sean reasoned with himself that it was only his imagination running away with itself. It was only a big, empty ballroom. It hadn't been used in years. Yet, as he turned to leave, he felt an unfamiliar feeling in his heart.

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_the light was blinding him. he sprinted in a shallow river, continuously flowing in the opposite direction, splashing under his bare feet. cold fear coursed through his veins. he couldn't put a name to what he was running from, but he shuddered to think about what would happen if it caught him. in his head, he tried to reason with himself that it was all in his head, but he couldn't shake the unspeakable terror that gripped him like a vice. A Nameless Fear._

_all around him, strange noises echoed. the tolling of deep bells, the murmuring of voices, screams, and clashing chords all crescendo and decrescendo in a deadly symphony._

_out of nowhere, he tripped and collapsed face down in the water. he tried to get back up immediately and keep running, but the water surged over him and began to almost suck him down, pulling him deeper and further in the flow of the water, closer towards where he was running from. he began to panic and struggle, arms flailing._

"No!" _a cry of panic and anguish pierced through the murky, freezing water, and a hand gripped his shoulder suddenly and pulled him up and out of the water. he sat up, gasping for air. water streamed down his face, and he shivered violently. the water was so cold. he splashed around for a moment, getting his bearings before looking around for his savior. he found no one, and then the sudden, eerie silence became noticeable._

_a sudden splash from behind made him spin around. he saw a huddled figure of a person on the ground. they were waist deep in water, head bowed and arms up to the elbows under water. he approached warily, kneeling down next to them. he found no response, and tentatively laid a hand on their shoulder._

_the head popped up. it was a boy around his own age. dark hair was plastered wetly to his forehead, and the back stuck up. dark eyes stared at him with fear and a hint of curiosity. his skin was dead white, but sean saw the blatantly italian features. he was wearing only a white shift that stuck to his shoulders and chest from the water._

"Were you the one that saved me?" _sean asked, his voice echoing oddly and sounding too loud to his ears. the boy didn't answer, only continuing to stare at him. sean tried again._

"Where are we?" _as he spoke, a spasm of internal pain crossed the boy's face, and he closed his eyes briefly. sean frowned._

"What happened to you? Can't you talk?" _he asked, concern and impatience rivaling each other inside of him. the boy stared into his eyes, dark pools of naked emotion flickering restlessly. he raised a hand, and the other came with it unbidden with a clank and a splash. his hands where chained together, with the chain attached to them dragging down under the water somewhere deep. he brushed the back of his hand along sean's cheek, who shivered at the pale coldness of his skin, colder than the steel of the cuff._

_"trapped…" the boy whispered. all at once, sean began to feel a burning behind his eyelids. it spread until it consumed his body. the boy continued to stare at him, sadness and hopelessness in his eyes until everything went blinding white and_

He woke up, panting. He was in his own bed, in the new house. It had all been a dream. He stared at the ceiling, unable and unwilling to go to sleep for the rest of the night.

to be continued.


	2. Note

Disclaimer: Don't own a thing.

So, here's the thing. I didn't exactly mean to put this up; it was a bit impulsive of me. I'm at a strange juncture in my life where my love of Newsies has been misplaced somewhere. At the moment, I'm a bit enamored by the Beatles. Also, I have absolutely no idea how this story is going to end.

So to prevent hassle and such, this is going on a hiatus. I promise that it'll get done. Promise.

…I know. Who puts a story on hiatus after one chapter? I feel really dumb, but I can't write anything on this at the moment. Hopefully I'll get Newsies for Christmas so I'll get entertained enough to write something But I promise it'll come back.

Shelby


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